


Of Jasmine and Daggers

by Satine86



Category: Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: Community: shitennou_ai, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Shitennou Forums Ficathon, non-explicit reference to violence and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enticed out of retirement, former assassin Kikumoto Jimmu was not prepared for the job or his feelings for the beautiful woman who'd hired him, Wu Ling-Rui.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Jasmine and Daggers

**Author's Note:**

> Written the shitennou forums 10th anniversary ficathon. Theme chosen was "Literary Quote": You can’t force love, I realized. It’s there or it isn’t. If it’s not there, you’ve got to be able to admit it. If it is there, you’ve got to do whatever it takes to protect the ones you love. – Richelle Mead
> 
> Originally this was over word limit for ficathon, but after a bunch of editing and some revisions it was submitted at the encouragement of the Ficathon Mistress. It's a little messy, but overall I'm pleased with it. 
> 
> Zipfile of all fics and the list of themes can be found on the [Shitennou Forums](http://forums.shitennou.com/index.php)

The market was busy, crowded with shoppers and stalls, the merchants yelling out their wares. She ignored them all, dodging people and mud puddles, pulling her shawl a bit closer to cover her hair as she made her way to the nondescript shop at the end of the lane, nestled between a bakery and smith's shop. A bell sounded as she slowly walked inside the long, narrow room. The walls were covered in finely woven tapestries; some depicting fables and poetry-verses, others flowers and nature scenes. Racks and racks of less intricate works were pushed against the walls. There were rugs as well; the colors vibrant and varied, like rainbows.

At the end of the shop was a short counter, behind it a curtain hiding what she assumed to be the work room. She paused at the counter, calling out to see if anyone was there. There was the creak of a chair followed by soft footfalls.

The man that emerged from behind the curtain was hardly what she’d expected. With his reputation she had thought he would be graying, lines scoring his face. Instead he was scarcely older than she was, thirty at most.

He was handsome, too. His tanned face was angular, with sharp cheekbones and a strong chin, belying his foreign heritage. He kept his golden crown of curls short, falling around his ears and curling against his shirt collar. He surveyed her with calm blue eyes, one brow quirked.

“May I help you, miss?” His voice was gentle and deep, resonating inside his chest, and an accent she couldn’t place.

She straightened her back, looking up at him. “Are you the one they call Kikumoto Jimmu?”

“I am.” He leaned forward, resting muscular forearms on the countertop, long-fingered hands clasped together, brow still quirked. “What can I do for you?”

Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward to meet his gaze straight. “Are you also the one they called the Jade Dagger?” she kept her voice low, as if revealing a great secret.

Jimmu straightened and chuckled at her, eyes glinting with amusement. “You've done your research.” He sounded impressed, and that filled her with an odd sense of pride. Then he shook his head sadly. “But that was another life, now I am but a humble weaver. If you're interested, I have a silk tapestry with a lily design in the back, almost worthy of such a highborn lady.”

She pulled back, inhaling sharply as if she'd been struck. Once she regained herself, she glared at him, challenging. “I am not a noblewoman.”

“No?”

“No.” She felt a bit uneasy, his gaze unnerving. “How are you so sure I am?”

“Your clothes, while plain, are new, not threadbare. They are also clean, as are your shoes less the bit of mud you couldn't avoid on your way here. You posture is refined and practiced, your hands have not seen a day of work in your life, and you're very well informed; the type of information you possess can only be obtained through money.” He leaned forward again, invading her space. “Almost as much as I paid to bury it.”

He straightened again, but kept his hands spread on the counter. “Do not dishonour us with lies.”

“Will you hear me out?”

“You’ve made me curious. A moment, please.” He stepped out from behind the counter, towering over her. His gait was deliberate as he walked to the front of the store, locking the door and drawing the drapes. “There, a little privacy. Now, why are you here?”

“I've come for your help.”

That seemed to shock him, his eyes widening just a bit, jaw tightening. That pleased her more than she cared to admit.

“Is that so? Not many ladies seek out such ‘help’.” He regarded her for a moment then brushed past her, heading to the back room. “Come, I'll make tea.”

She followed him hesitantly through the curtain, realizing it was indeed a work room; two different looms and a kaleidoscope of colorful threads. He walked past these things, continuing through another curtain to the left, concealing a second room. A small flame flared into life with a faint scrape. He moved gracefully, lighting several candles peppered around the small, uncluttered room. In the light, she made out a brazier near a window, a table and cabinet in the middle, and a bedroll off to the side with several shelves lined with books, and a few ornate boxes above it.

She knelt on a pillow in front of the table as Jimmu piled wood into the brazier and lit it, placing a kettle over the fire. He moved to the cabinet, pulling out a pot and cups and a large jar with loose leaves.

It seemed no time at all before she had a steaming cup of orange blossom tea in front of her. Jimmu sat across from her, and nodded for her to continue.

She pursed her lips before speaking. “The tales about you—about the Jade Dagger—claim you are the most skilled assassin outside the Golden Kingdom.”

“Within it as well.” He smirked at her.

Huffing out a breath, nostrils flared at his arrogance, she took a sip of tea to calm herself. “I am in great need of a skilled hand.”

“I’m not a bodyguard. And I am no longer a killer.”

“There is someone after my father, there have been numerous attempts on his life. And they are escalating. I fear one day soon they will succeed.” She halted, licked her lips. “While he may not be a good father, he is a great leader. There is much he does for his people, much he can do still. For their sake, I wish to keep him safe.”

“Again, why not a bodyguard?” He arched his brow over the rim of his cup.

“I thought—I hoped,” she amended, glancing down at her hands. “That you could help. You know how to kill without being caught. You, out of anyone, would know the signs of an assassination, and how to stop it.”

“Who would wish your father ill.”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, her shawl slipping. She brushed a few wisps of hair from her face. “I just know the methods are changing; I believe whomever it is, is cycling through different people until one succeeds.”

“Sounds like an interesting challenge.” He nodded and sipped his tea, not saying anything further.

“Will you take the job? I can make it more than worth your while.”

“Tell me about the different attempts on his life, I know every assassin within leagues of here. Once I know who is who, I will direct you to some good men. That's all I can do.”

“It has to be you,” she said, leaning forward, hands splayed on the table. Her shawl fell away completely, her long braid of raven hair spilling over her shoulder. He looked at her, eyes drifting lazily over the braid.

“Careful, you'll get your hair in the tea.”

She scrambled back and shoved her hair over her shoulder. “Please?”

He seemed annoyed now, his shoulders tense and jaw set, but she wasn't quite sure it was simply because of her persistence. “I don't take lives anymore, understand?”

“But you wouldn't be taking a life, you would be saving one. Perhaps more than one; I could be next after my father’s death.” She looked at her hands again, then back at him through a fan of thick lashes. “If you're not satisfied with money? Perhaps there's something else that would satisfy you?” She kept her voice low, letting the suggestion hang between them.

Silence reigned until Jimmu broke it with an incredulous snort. “You are either very determined, very foolish, or very unaccustomed to hearing the word 'no'.”

“I am no fool. I know the ways of courtiers, and I understand men very well.”

“Yet here you are, alone, in a secluded spot with a known killer. That seems rather foolish to me.” He shrugged, lips pressed together.

“People know I am here, and I am not a simpering young girl; I know how to take of myself. But thank you for your concern, I appreciate it all the same.” She pressed a hand to her upper leg, tracing the daggers strapped there, feeling a little more confident. “However, you are correct, I am determined. I came here to hire the best man for the job, and I won’t leave until I have secured his employment.”

He stared at her for several moments, assessing, finally dropping her gaze to drain his cup. She was thankful when he glanced away, his intensity unnerving.

“They say you divine your future by reading the dregs of your tea leaves.” He reached across and took her cup, swirling the contents gently. “Mm, interesting,” he breathed.

“What is it? What do you see?” She found herself leaning forward, trying to look inside the cup.

“Just mush, I never learned how to read them.” He grinned at her and she laughed, a little loudly, clapping a hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

“I’ll take the job, but I will not kill. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” She started to smile. “Thank you. I will have someone collect you tomorrow, bring you to the estate.” She rose slowly.

“May I have your name?”

“You may call me Miss Wu.”

He looked at her again in that same appraising way and she found herself standing up a little straighter. “Wu Ling-Rui? Daughter of honorable Lord Wu? Very interesting. I'm not sure what this job will hold, Miss Wu, but I do believe it will be unlike any other.”

“I will see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, that will be fine.” She nodded once and scurried out of the room. When she was outside, pushing through the tide of people, she let out a sigh of relief. She, like Jimmu, had no idea what was to come, but she was hopeful.

 

\---------

 

When Jimmu arrived at Lord Wu's estate, he spent a moment—much to the annoyance of his escort—taking in the building and grounds. The estate was nestled on the edge of town spreading across several acres of well groomed gardens, all encased with a towering rock wall.

Walking through the front gates, Jimmu found himself in the middle of a courtyard. There were smaller buildings on either side, a fountain in the center, and the large estate across from the gates. It was a grand thing; a tiled roof, ornate points made of intricately gold-lacquered carved wood. The shutters on the windows were brightly colored, and finely crafted. Bright red lanterns hung between the buildings, and Jimmu was sure it looked impressive in the twilight.

He entered through the servants’ entrance, careful not to draw attention. The inside of the house was just as opulent as the outside. Everything consisted of dark, polished wood, plush rugs, and brocade tapestries and wall hangings. It was immaculate. He counted five maids and one manservant in his short walk. Clearly, the staff was large, and yet, the servants were all discreet and quiet. He liked that.

Jimmu was led down several long corridors, each one just as impressive as the last, until his escort stopped before a sliding bamboo door and knocked quietly.

“Enter,” a deep voice commanded from the other side. The manservant slid open the door, ushered Jimmu inside and shut it quietly.

This room was well lit, large windows overlooking a garden and koi pond. One wall was covered in bookshelves, floor to ceiling, and the other was taken up by a large hearth. A table was sat near the windows, covered in scrolls and inkwells, but it appeared well organized. Jimmu noted Miss Wu sitting by the fire, her hands folded gracefully. Though the sleeves of her dress covered them, he somehow knew her fingers were laced tightly, knuckles turning white.

Her head was bent forward, long hair piled atop her head in the most ridiculously intricate style—perfect for a highborn lady. As he walked past she lifted her eyes briefly, looking at him from under her absurdly long, thick lashes. Fresh violets; yes, that was what they reminded him of. He met her eyes for a moment before returning his attention to Lord Wu.

Everything about him exuded power and control; even the way he held his brush between his fingers. He looked Jimmu up and down, scrutinizing. Jimmu returned his gaze blandly.

“So,” he said gravely. “You are the Jade Dagger?”

Jimmu inclined his head slightly, tilted forward in a small bow. “I am Kikumoto Jimmu. I retain no other titles.”

Wu snorted. “Impetuous young man, aren't you?”

“I have no stomach for games, Lord Wu. I am my own keeper, and only the gods judge me.”

Jimmu suppressed a smirk as Lord Wu's nostrils flared, eyes hardening with indignation. “You would do well to show some respect, boy,” he spat.

“You would do well to remember I am here to save your life. I do not take kindly to threats or orders. I will do what must be done to complete the job, and I will do it however I see fit. But,” Jimmu shrugged carelessly, “if you do not find that to your tastes perhaps I should leave you to your own devices?”

Lord Wu glowered, then turned his attention to his daughter. “It would have been helpful had you warned me about his attitude.”

She glanced up and looked at her father, blinking owlishly—Jimmu bit his cheek to keep from laughing. “I'm sorry father, he was perfectly courteous to me.” Her gaze drifted from her father to Jimmu, the corner of her mouth quirking in the barest of smiles, before looking down at her lap again.

“What say you, Lord Wu? Shall I stay or return to my shop?”

“You will stay,” the man waved his hand airily, as if he had control over the situation.

“Very well.” Jimmu smiled serenely. “Perhaps you should tell me about the attempts?”

“They were all meant to look like accidents, and I wrote them off as such for a while. A loose cinch on a saddle, a robbery when I was returning from business. They kept growing more frequent, it was my daughter who connected them.”

“Very astute. May I?” Jimmu nodded to one of the pillows before the Lord's table.

“If you wish.”

Jimmu smiled again and settled down on the cushion. “These all sound sloppy, amateurish. I believe what your daughter said, about someone cycling through hired-hands, is correct. First, simple thugs, assuming the job would be simple. Soon, I think, they will start hiring trained killers. I assume they'll turn to poison next.... less messy.”

“And what will you do?” Lord Wu said with bravado, but Jimmu could see how pinched his eyes were, the line of his mouth. Clearly his words had gotten through to the lord.

“No doubt you're being watched, they'll know I'm here. Hopefully they don’t know who I am. I think we should use this as a job interview of sorts, but you wouldn't being hiring a new scribe or a stable groom, would you?” Jimmu thought for a moment, weighing his options. “We'll say I’m your food taster.”

“Is that safe? If they get suspicious might they try... other ways?”

“I've no doubt they will, but they'll think of me as some young fool looking for a hefty salary. I know poisons, I am well trained, and I know of all the assassins who dabble in poison. I know what to look for.”

Lord Wu considered him for a moment, the blunt end of his brush tapping his chin. “That was not your method, was it? The 'less messy' way of poison. Any particular reason? Or do you just enjoy it?”

“If you think I'm here to murder you in your sleep, you're mistaken.” Jimmu snorted. “As for why I chose the methods I did, well, being close to my marks afforded me certain... opportunities.”

“You stole from the dead?”

“No.” Jimmu reigned in his annoyance at such a dishonorable suggestion. “I prayed.”

“For the corrupt souls?” Ling-Rui cut in--voice no longer calm but laced with surprise. “They said you went after deceitful, dishonorable sorts; never the innocent, and surely never anyone deserving of prayer.”

“I did not pray for them, I prayed for myself.” He turned to look at her, meeting her gaze as she stared at him, wide eyed. “You see, Miss Wu, whenever you take a life, snuff out a living soul—no matter how corrupt, how tainted—the action takes a bit of yours.”

“You prayed for mercy then?” She arched a brow, eyes searching.

“No, only that my path remained true.”

“Is that why you retired? You faltered on your path?”

Jimmu looked at her, eyes tracing the swoop of her long, graceful neck, the pallor of her milky skin, and the quirk of her full lips. He smiled at her slowly, cheek dimpling slightly.

“Very astute, Miss Wu.” Her eyes widened slightly then narrowed in question, cheeks taking on the faintest bit of color. She looked at him as if she wasn't sure he was mocking or sincere.

He turned back to Lord Wu. “I am here to do a job; that job is ensuring you live and to find the person responsible for these threats.”

“Fine, you will be my food taster.” He reached over and pulled on a red rope, signaling a servant. A few moments later the screen slid open and an older woman bowed to the Lord.

“Please take Mister Kikumoto to the servant quarters. Give him the room overlooking the courtyard, it's finer,” Wu instructed.

Jimmu rose, bowing to the man. “I will see you at dinner, Lord Wu.” He turned, bowing to Rui before leaving, “Miss Wu.”

He followed the maid, weaving through the halls and corridors and exiting out the same servants door as before. She led him to the building on the left of the courtyard, up a flight of stairs and down a long hall. The room he entered was spacious with a desk, table, and bedroll. Windows took up two walls; both looked down on the courtyard, one facing east to the other smaller building he guessed to be stables, and the other facing north to the main estate.

The windows latched from the inside and the roof sloped down from the windows, giving him a way to sneak around at night. Perfect. He wondered if Lord Wu had thought that far ahead?

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” The servant asked.

He turned, hands clasped behind his back, and smiled. “No, this will be fine. Thank you.”

She nodded and quickly left. Jimmu looked over the property, mentally mapping it out and committing everything to memory. When he lifted his eyes to the main estate, he saw movement in one of the windows. After a moment he realized it was Miss Wu, pacing in what appeared to be her bedroom. She was undoing that ridiculous hairstyle, leaving long tresses to fall down her back.

He frowned.

Of all the rooms to be directly across from his, of course it would be hers.

 

\-------

 

Rui watched Jimmu as he tasted her father’s food. It was a careful ritual, she thought. One she had observed for the past fortnight. At each meal Jimmu would show up, haphazardly plate the food and take a bite from each portion; sniffing the bite before putting it in his mouth and carefully rolling it over his tongue.

Her father would impatiently wait for him to finish, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, mouth pursed in irritation. After a while, each item thoroughly inspected, Jimmu would give her father a satisfied nod and declare the meal safe.

At that point her father would look up at Jimmu, muttering about how he always took his time and how hungry he was, then he would tuck into his meal with gusto; Jimmu smiling serenely the entire time. Completely dismissed, he would take a seat next to her and test her plate as well. It was always done in short order.

“Why do you insist on aggravating him?” She asked, taking her plate. “Or are my plates less worrisome?”

“Patience is a virtue.” He laughed, dishing up a small plate for himself. He dug in without hesitation.

“My father is not a patient man.”

“This will build character.”

Rui hid a snort behind her hand, and glanced toward her father; he was currently engaged with his assistant, Master Kan, over land shares and tenants, completely oblivious to her behavior. She looked back at Jimmu and smiled. While she was loath to say they were friends, they were cordial. Something about him simultaneously relaxed her and put her on edge; she had yet to figure out whether she liked it.

“Do you think they’ve given up?” She asked quietly, leaning a bit closer to him. “It's been so long since anything has happened.”

“It's difficult to say,” he said slowly, “but I am inclined to think they've finally hired someone who knows what they're doing. It takes time to observe a mark, you have to get to know them, understand them so you can....” he trailed off and lifted a brow pointedly, tilting his head.

“Have you been learning about us?”

“I have, to help protect you both... but mostly because it's difficult to stop observing people, marking their habits.” He shrugged before reaching for his tea, taking a slow sip.

Rui eyed him. “What have you learned?”

“About you or your father?”

“Me.”

“Well,” he sat down his cup, thinking. “While you may act the part of a demure courtier, you are far from it. You are strong-willed and stubborn.”

“I'm sure our first meeting didn't help you reach that conclusion.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Perhaps,” He laughed and she smiled.

“What I have learned though,” he said after a moment. “Is that you have a fondness for music, you know a great deal about politics – perhaps more than your father, I daresay – you dislike asparagus, and you love lilies.” He nodded toward the wooden comb in her hair, the fanned part depicting an intricate design of the blooms.

“They were my mother's favorite.” She absently reached up, tracing a finger along the edge. “This was hers.”

“Beautiful.” His eyes traced the outline of the comb, then the curve of her hand. She wasn't sure what to make of the action.

“As I said before, you are very astute. Have you discovered anything about me?” She felt she knew very little about him, and that was probably how he liked it. Though, she thought perhaps she had noticed a few things.

“You prefer to meditate just before dawn, when the sun is cresting on the horizon. You hate it when father drinks Scorpion wine.” He shuddered at the mention of the drink, casting a glance toward the bottle still on the table, the preserved creature suspended in the grain alcohol. “But still test it without protest.”

“To be fair, he dislikes it as well; wasting all those medicinal qualities on me.”

She smiled at him. “I suppose that's true. You also enjoy your tea lukewarm.”

He quirked a brow at her. “You know this how?”

“You always pour a cup and start your meal, but never touch it until you're halfway through and the steam has stopped rising.”

“I was correct, you are very shrewd. But,” he paused and looked at her from the corner of his eye, lips twitching. “One must wonder how you came to learn that I meditate at dawn? Have you been spying on me, Miss Wu?”

Rui sputtered, his teasing tone catching her off-guard. “I’ve done no such thing.... I-I happen to meditate early in the morning as well; I've noticed you.”

“I know.” Now he was laughing. “I have been spying on you.”

She stared at him, jaw hanging, until laughter bubbled up from her chest. She fought it at first, biting her lip, then finally giving in, laughing along with Jimmu.

“Ling-Rui,” her father hissed. “Quiet, it is not becoming of a lady to guffaw at the dinner table.”

“Sorry, father.” She bent her head, hands clasped in her lap. When her father turned his attention back to his assistant, she glanced at Jimmu from the corner of her eye; he was looking at her, eyes soft. He gave her a small, reassuring smile. She returned it.

 

\---------

 

Jimmu had been at Wu's estate over three months and had yet to find anything out of place. The accidents had stopped; Wu's meals were perfectly safe; and he seemed to rest easy at night. It was strange.

He had checked with all of his informants, all his networks: nothing. Either the person behind the attempts knew Jimmu was under his employ, or they were plotting something big. He doubted they had given up completely. That would be too easy.

It was early afternoon and Jimmu was holed up in Wu's immense library, going over old land records and business dealings in search of clues, a reason behind the malice. He was sorting through scrolls when he became aware of quiet footfalls entering the library.

The person walked lightly, a natural grace conveyed with each step. He also faintly smelled jasmine; heady and sweet compared to the dusty tomes around him. Jimmu looked up just as Rui emerged from the rows. She smiled, holding up a cup and teapot. She knelt across from him, sliding the cup toward him.

“I poured it while still in the kitchens, it should be cooled.” She held his gaze, eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Thank you, Miss Wu.” He inclined his head, reaching for the cup and taking a sip. “Perfect.”

She sat a little straighter, pleased. Her gaze fell to the table, glancing over the scrolls. “Have you found anything?”

“Sadly, no. From all I can tell your father's business dealings have been impeccable. As has his treatment of his tenants, but I already knew that--you told me when we met.” He took another sip of tea.

“You trusted me?”

“Of course.” He lifted a brow and looked down at the tea. “Is there a reason I shouldn't?”

She laughed, the sound light and tinkling. She sobered after a moment, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, though. For trusting me, and for agreeing to the job.”

“What can I say? You're very persuasive.” He grinned.

Rui narrowed her eyes. “Is that a good or bad thing?”

“Neither.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “It simply is.”

“Jimmu?” she said slowly when he started looking over documents again.

“Yes, Miss Wu?”

“Please, call me Rui.” She looked at him from under her lashes. Jimmu managed to keep his face blank, but he was surprised at her request. And pleased.

“Alright,” he swallowed, wetting his lips, “Rui.”

She smiled brightly. “Now, can I ask why you retired?”

“Cutting to the quick? I figure most would be interested in why I become an assassin.”

“There are only so many options as to why you started, but if you wish to begin there.” She shrugged, looking down demurely.

Jimmu snorted. “Who said I was answering?”

“You said yourself I can be very persuasive.” Rui quirked a brow, challenging. “I'm also stubborn.”

He took another sip, lips twitching. “Alright, I'll give you a story. Then I must get back to work.”

Rui resettled herself on her cushion, like a child tucking in for a fairy tale. She leaned her elbows on the table, chin cupped in her hands.

“I suppose the end lies in the beginning. I became an assassin because I had no choice in the matter. I was left at a monastery when I was a few weeks old, and I was raised there until I was five. At that point my master came; he traveled much and called upon the hospitality of the monks from time to time. When he met me, a scrawny child with owlish eyes, he saw potential. He took me and trained me.”

“Since you were five?”

“Yes. I told you I had little choice,” Jimmu said, refilling his cup. “Do you know why I prefer my tea cold?”

She shook her head, eyes never leaving his face.

“I was never a good pupil; I excelled at the tasks I was given, but I preferred to do them my way. This displeased my master, so he would punish me.”

“How so?” She leaned forward eagerly.

“Usually performing a headstand while he ate... very slowly. By the time I got to eat, everything was cold. I learned to like it that way.”

She giggled. “In trouble often?”

“Everyday.” Now he laughed, light and carefree, and he let the moment run its course before continuing. “Every assassin has a network of sources. Mine consisted of children from the street; they’re resilient, sneaky, and very few people pay them attention.”

“That is clever.”

“I thought so, but mostly I did it to ensure they had a meal or blankets for cool nights. I could have been one of them, but my life was very different. It isn’t something I would wish upon anyone, but I’ve never wanted for anything.” He stopped, lost in thought.

“There was a boy, slightly older than the rest, about thirteen. He idolized me, wanted nothing more than to prove his worth to me. I was proud and full of myself, flattered by his esteem. I was looking for a mark; a disgusting man throwing tenants off his land by unlawful means. The boy, Ju-Long, knew this.”

Rui sucked in a breath, looking down at her hands.

“Do you wish me to continue? You asked.”

“I did. Go on.” She looked up, meeting his eyes.

“Ju-Long found the man meeting with mercenaries, I assume hoping to learn details. However, the mercenaries found him and killed him. He did not have an easy death.”

“It wasn't your fault, though. You didn't send him there.” Her voice shook, eyes brimming with tears.

“He went for me. To prove himself to me, because I never discouraged him.” Jimmu rubbed his knuckles across his lips. “Because I had become arrogant; enjoying the admiration.”

“I made a promise when I left the monastery. I told the monks if I could not instill good into the world, I would take only the bad. That was the path I set for myself, the one I prayed to keep true to. But Ju-Long's blood is on my hands, an innocent life lost.”

“You make it sound like you're evil, but you're not. You’ve done much for the greater good. This was a mistake, horrible and tragic, but a mistake.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You don't understand. I think it best if you leave now.” He paused. “Miss Wu.”

He could feel Rui’s eyes searching his face, but he would not meet her gaze. She finally rose, eyes downcast and hands folded. “I told my father I would check on you, is there anything you need before I go?”

“No--” he stopped, noting a document before him. “Your father's assistant.”

“Master Kan?”

“Yes, Kan Hai-Tang,” he muttered to himself. “How long has he worked for your father?”

Rui frowned, eyes rolling to the ceiling while she thought. “I believe... close to eleven years. Why?”

“No reason, I'm just checking. Thank you.” He nodded, dismissing her.

She stood a moment longer, opened her mouth to speak; instead she snapped it shut with a shake of her head. “Have a good day, Mister Kikumoto.”

 

\---------

 

The evening meal progressed in the same fashion it had since Jimmu’s arrival. He meticulously picked through her father's plate, tasting everything slowly. Finally satisfied he passed it to her father, took his seat next to her and checked her meal. This time though he passed her the plate without a glance, quietly dishing up his own.

She had come to enjoy their evening conversations, but she refused to break the silence, and it appeared so did he. They ate quietly, the only sound the conversation between her father and Master Kan. She was reminded of how things were before Jimmu’s arrival, which was upsetting.

Rui was tempted to say something when her father gasped, clutching his chest. “Father!” she cried, reaching for him. Jimmu was kneeling at his side before the word had even left her lips. Kan was calling for help, servants rushing in to help her father to bed. Everything happened in a whirl, she could hear Jimmu and Kan whispering angrily, their words unclear.

Her father was pale, sweating, his breathing shallow. She dutifully placed wet clothes on his head while the physician was called; the old man came quickly, looking over her father. Rui remained by her father's side the entire time, half listening as Kan spoke with the physician, watching in a daze as they gave her father a tonic. After the physician had gone she became aware of Kan sitting on the other side of the bed.

“He was poisoned, Ling-Rui.” She looked up at him. Kan was in his late thirties, thin and always well groomed. Rui thought him almost handsome, but his face was just a little too narrow, his eyes a little too sharp. She realized, as he looked at her, she had never liked him.

“How? Ji--” she caught herself. “Master Kikumoto tested father's food. He always does.”

“I know,” Kan said gravely. “Your father needs rest now, won't you come with me while I speak with Kikumoto?”

“I... yes, I will.” She stood slowly, smoothing her dress. She walked behind Kan toward her father's study, head down.

When they entered the room she went to the cushions by the fire, her usual place. Jimmu was already there, seated before her father's desk and Kan sat across from him. He leveled Jimmu with a cool gaze.

“Lord Wu was poisoned.”

“I am well aware, I know what it looks like.” Jimmu returned Kan's gaze full on, his back straight. “You should let me see him, I am well acquainted with many--”

“He has been attended by the physician and given a tonic.” Kan steepled his fingers. “Since you were hired I have been reading up on antidotes, and amassing a small collection. It seemed the prudent thing to do.”

“You don't trust me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I do not. I know exactly you who are: the Jade Dagger.” Kan narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. “I believe it was your way to infiltrate and strike when the victim least expected it.”

“So I've been here biding my time?”

“I don’t know for certain. But I don't intend to wait around to find out. You are dismissed. If for no other reason than failing at your job.” Kan smirked. “I believe that would be grounds not to fulfill the contract, you won’t be getting any payment.”

“You can't!” Rui cried, rising to her feet. “Father hired him, he's the only one who may dismiss him.”

“Your father is ill, I am working in his stead; I’m sure this is what he would want.” Kan softened his face, looking at her pityingly. “I assure you Ling-Rui, I have your father's best interests in mind.”

“Very well, I will gather my things and go.” Jimmu rose slowly. He turned without acknowledging Kan, but stopped before Rui, bowing lowly.

As soon as the screen shut behind him she looked to Kan, not really meeting his eyes. “I must attend father.”

“Of course,” he nodded. Rui left quickly, but instead of turning toward her father's room, she headed toward the servants’ door. She found Jimmu outside, barely visible in the shadows.

“You can't go,” she hissed.

He whirled, finger to his lips, and pulled her around the side of the building. “I’ve no choice but to leave.”

“There’s something wrong, you tasted his food and he was still poisoned! You can't go. You're the only one I trust.”

“I know. I will continue looking for clues; the moment I find anything I’ll let you know.” He glanced toward the courtyard then back at her. “Stay safe and be careful.”

He started to leave but she grabbed his sleeve. “Jimmu.”

“Shh, it’ll be alright.” He smiled at her. “You were wrong though, you know?” She frowned at him, confused. “You're father didn't hire me, you did. I report to you.”

Rui nodded, dropping her hand. “Please be safe.”

“I will.” He took a breath and lifted his hand, hesitant. Another inhale and he gently laid it against her cheek, his thumb caressing. “Goodbye for now, Rui,” he whispered, disappearing into the night before she could take a shuddering breath.

 

\----------

 

Jimmu could not remember a time when he had been so furious. When Ju-Long had died, perhaps, but it was also tinged with guilt and sadness. This, however, was pure anger. And it was all directed at that braying pustule known as Kan Hai-Tang.

In the days since he’d been “dismissed”, Jimmu had done nothing but gather information; bribing and threatening as needed. He went everywhere criminals lurked; gambling dens, opium houses, brothels, and a hundred unsavory places between. All for one single bit of evidence to prove his instinct right.

He kept an eye on Rui, sneaking onto the property to make sure she was alright; never speaking to her to ensure her continued safety. He eavesdropped on the cook's helper while she gossiped at market. From what he’d gathered, Wu was making a full recovery – not surprising – and there were no other attempts on his life.

He also learned that Kan, the whore-son, had taken over running Wu's estate. Jimmu growled. He must calm himself before his anger overtook him, rendering him useless.

Crossing the market, a hiss caught Jimmu’s attention. Without slowing, he glanced around, spotting a familiar figure lurking at the mouth of an alley. He changed direction, following the figure.

“I have news for you.”

“Well?” he prompted. “I don't have time for games, Tie-Lan.”

“So grumpy,” she pouted, pushing back her hood, revealing a fair face with thick bangs hanging into bottle-green eyes. She worked for the local madam, charming information out anyone who frequented the establishment. He couldn’t tell if her flirtatiousness was her natural disposition, or if she truly fancied him. Either way he was in no mood.

“What is it?”

“It appears the Crimson Dragon arrived in our humble province.”

Jimmu snorted. The Crimson Dragon? More like the Pretentious Pufferfish. “What’s he doing here?”

“It seems he was hired in the Golden Kingdom by a wealthy man. But that man is not actually wealthy, he was hired to play the part by another man. However,” she stressed, taking a deep breath. “That man isn't wealthy either, he was hired to travel to the Golden Kingdom by a man who really is wealthy.”

Jimmu pinched his nose. “Tie-Lan, you're giving me a headache.”

“The man who hired the traveler is a man of good standing, known throughout the city.” Here she grinned wide. “He goes by the name of Master Kan.”

Now it was Jimmu's turn to grin, he dropped his hand and looked at her. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.”

“I figured as much!”

Jimmu untied his coin purse, the last of his savings used for bribes, and handed it to her. “Thank you, you've earned it.”

“Always a pleasure, Jimmu.” Tie-Lan traced a finger over his jaw. “Come see me next time you’re lonely.” She winked, brushing past him. He waited a few moments after Tie-Lan had gone before leaving.

After nightfall, Jimmu headed out for Wu’s estate. He kept to the shadows, avoiding servants, and entered the main estate through a window on the upper floor. He waited in the hall leading to Rui’s room until he heard soft footfalls and smelled jasmine perfume.

Jimmu placed a finger against his lips when Rui rounded the corner, her eyes wide in surprise. He hastened toward her, nodding for her to follow him. Taking a step he became aware of a shift in the air, the presence of another. Whirling around, Jimmu shoved Rui behind him and stepped into the path of a dart aimed at her neck. He tried to knock it aside, but missed by inches and it embedded itself in his wrist.

The floor tilted under his feet and he stumbled to his knees. A shadow escaped down the hall. Jimmu wanted to yell for someone to follow it, but no words would come. Rui was kneeling by his side, her warm hands on his face, eyes pinched.

“Jimmu, please stay with me,” she whispered, voice wavering.

“K-Kan,” he stuttered, fighting to stay conscious; the edges of his vision growing dark. “Poison,” he managed before the darkness won out.

 

\-----------

 

Rui sagged under Jimmu’s weight when he collapsed against her, struggling to carefully lie him on the floor. Through her panic and worry she managed to remember to check for a heartbeat, it was strong and steady, and his chest rose and fell evenly. That calmed her enough to let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

She looked around, and knew she was alone. The assassin was long gone. Rui knew she couldn't carry Jimmu to her room, but she couldn't alert Kan to his presence. Her handmaids could be trusted, without doubt.

Rui was hesitate to leave Jimmu to find them, but as if her thoughts were a summoning bell, the girls appeared around the corner; gasping when they saw her and Jimmu.

“Help me,” she pleaded.

They rushed forward. Fei-Cui, dressed in green, knelt next to Rui, and Ding-Xiang, dressed in purple, knelt across.

“What happened, mistress?” Fei-Cui whispered.

“He saved me. Things are very dangerous, we need to take him to my room. We mustn’t speak of word of this to anyone, is that clear?” She met each of the girl's gaze. “Especially to my father or Master Kan.”

“Yes, mistress.” The girls nodded in unison.

It was a chore for the three of them to get Jimmu to her room, but eventually he was safely laid on her bed with a blanket drawn over his shivering body, even as sweat beaded his brow.

“He's been poisoned, but we can’t call the physician; I don't think he can be trusted.” Rui chewed her lip. “I must get to the apothecary, that's the only chance.”

“No,” Ding-Xiang shook her head. “Let me go, it will be less suspicious.”

“Here, take the dart, it might help to discern the poison.” Rui pulled back the blanket, gently lifting Jimmu’s hand. The skin around the dart was swollen and red, much like a bee-sting. Taking a bit of cloth, Rui carefully plucked the dart and wrapped it up. Ding-Xiang took the package, ducking her head before scurrying out of the room.

“Bring me cool water and cloths, please?” She asked Fei-Cui, the girl nodded and left. Once she was alone, Rui gently brushed back Jimmu's bangs, already damp with perspiration. “Please stay with me, Jimmu. Please don't die,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes then, clouded with a feverish haze. He smiled, lifted his hand to brush her cheek. “Violets,” he mumbled before shutting his eyes again.

Rui didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and so she did both.

Fei-Cui returned shortly with a bowl of water and stack of clothes. They spent the next several hours placing cool compresses on Jimmu's burning forehead. He didn't open his eyes again, but he mumbled in his sleep, teeth chattering. Rui was beside herself with worry when Ding-Xiang finally returned with a small parcel.

“The apothecary knew what it was by the symptoms alone. He said it isn't deadly, it only makes you very ill.” She knelt down. “He made a tea and said that Master Kikumoto must drink it once a day for three days, then he will be well.”

“Go, quickly brew a cup.”

“I meant to, Mistress, but Master Kan stopped me before I got to the kitchens.”

“Oh?” Rui's eyebrows shot up. “What did he say?”

“He asked after your health.”

“Of course he did, and what did you say?”

“I said you were well.” She looked worried. “Should I not have said that?”

“No, you did well.” Rui turned to Fei-Cui. “Go get a pot of hot water. If you see Master Kan, tell him I was craving tea after supper.”

“Yes, mistress.”

When Fei-Cui returned they steeped the tea until the water was the color of amber, per the apothecary’s instructions. Rui knelt next to Jimmu, sitting him up carefully.

“Drink, please?” She whispered in his ear, holding the cup to his lips. “Please, Jimmu? You’ll feel better.”

He moaned and parted his lips enough for her to tip some tea into his mouth. It was a tedious process, with small sips and careful swallowing, but finally the cup was emptied and he’d stopped shivering, though his skin still burned.

“Shall we stay the night, mistress?”

“No, go about your normal chores. We can't alert Kan. I’ll watch over Jimmu tonight.”

Ding-Xiang frowned, “But you must sleep, mistress.”

“I’ll be fine. I'll see you in the morning.” The maids left reluctantly, but she waved them off, assuring them it would be fine.

Alone again, Rui grabbed Jimmu's hand, cradling it in her lap. After a moment she lifted it, pressing it against her cheek like when he had said goodbye. She reached out, stroking his hair, fingers toying with a lock.

Though she knew he wouldn’t die, that he would recover, she couldn’t get rid of the worry that had gnawed at her from the moment he’d collapsed. She sniffed loudly, realizing she was crying. Rui wiped her face with her sleeve, and laid down next to Jimmu. She didn’t care about indecency, she just wanted to be close, watch the rise and fall of his chest.

 

\---------

 

Jimmu wasn't aware of time, slipping in and out of delirium; however, he was aware of a sweet voice saying his name, the tones gentle but firm, the feel of delicate, warm hands, and the pleasing scent of jasmine. Sometimes there were other voices, others caring for him, but he would fidget and murmur until he smelled jasmine again.

When he finally woke with a lucid mind, it was evening. He blinked, adjusting to the lack of light in the room, and sucked his cheeks for enough saliva to swallow; his throat uncomfortably dry. He rolled onto his side, body aching.

He looked around, saw a table by the bed with a cup on it. He reached for it and quickly drained the contents. Cold tea.

Setting the cup down again he looked out the window on the far wall, glimpsed a familiar building across the way, and rolled onto his other side. Rui was seated by the bed, fast asleep.

Her chin was propped on her fist, her other hand splayed on her lap. She frowned in her sleep, lashes fanning across fair cheeks. He looked her over, noting sunken cheeks, and dark smudges around her eyes. He wondered how long he had been out, and if she’d had any real sleep.

The thought of her watching over him, caring for him, was pleasing in ways he didn't want to ponder. And he hadn't been prepared for the flood of relief when he realized she was still alright, that Kan hadn't injured her. Jimmu didn't get a chance to ponder his feelings, his attention drawn to the sound of someone in the hall. He flopped onto his back and shut his eyes as the screen opened.

He heard shuffling footsteps, the rustle of fabric as someone knelt by the chair. A soft voice, “Mistress? Wake up.”

A sharp inhale of breath, a muffled yawn, and Rui's sleepy voice, “W-what is it, Fei-Cui?”

“Master Kan is leaving.”

The chair creaked loudly as Rui’s weight shifted, undoubtedly shooting to her feet. “What do you mean!?” she cried, then lowered her voice, hissing, “he can't leave.” She sounded a little hysterical. “There are disputes and sick servants and whatever else anyone has thought of. He can't leave the estate, I've made sure of it!”

“He's pawned things off or dismissed them completely.” Rui muffled a scream.

“I'm going after him,” she said after a moment. Jimmu opened his eyes, but she was already heading toward the door.

“Mistress! It isn't safe!” her handmaid cried.

“I'll be fine, watch over Jimmu.” Her maid stepped forward, hand raised, but Rui ignored her and disappeared into the hallway. She was still staring after Rui when Jimmu shot up from the bed, laying a hand over the girl's mouth to hide her gasp.

“Where is she going?” he asked.

 

\--------

 

Still in her formal dress, Rui stole a plain cloak by the servants entrance, hastening after Kan. Luckily, he didn't bother with a horse, instead fleeing through the gates on foot. Grabbing a forgotten laundry basket, she kept her distance as Kan purposefully made his way through town, heading to the seedier parts. Rui kept her cloak drawn tight, face covered, shying away from the unsavory people she crossed.

Finally Kan ducked into an abandoned opium den; Rui dropped the basket, creeping down the alley separating it from a brothel. A broken window allowed her to see and hear everything inside.  
Kan faced off against a tall man with flaming red hair.

“The Crimson Dragon,” Kan scoffed. “I paid good money to get you here, yet you can't complete the job?”

“There was a complication,” Red-Hair said, bored.

“What complication? You were to poison the daughter so I could “save” her with the antidote.”

“Then you would convince her to hire me as a bodyguard and I would kill Wu in his sleep. I know the plan, I'm not an imbecile.” He rolled his eyes.

“You could've fooled me, the girl never took ill!” Kan ground out.

“Because,” Red-Hair stepped a little closer, eyes flashing. “There was a complication. A blond man. I tried to contact you.”

“Kikumoto.” Kan growled. “I knew he would cause problems.”

“Mhm,” Red-Hair nodded. “Give me a moment.” Before Kan could reply he walked away; Kan swore loudly and started pacing. Rui craned her neck, trying to see where he’d gone when she felt a cool blade against her throat. It bit into her skin, forcing her to stand.

“Hello, little missy.” Red-Hair hissed in her ear. “Don’t you know it's bad to spy on men when they're talking business?” He pushed her forward, steering her inside. Once they were in the main room, he shoved her roughly and she stumbled into Kan.

“Brought you a present.”

“Well, well, what are you doing here, Ling-Rui?” Kan narrowed his eyes, gripping her arms tightly.

“Proving you’re a dishonorable pig!” She spat in his face. He let her go, eyes cold, and slapped her across the face so hard tears pricked her eyes as she stumbled to the ground.

“I wouldn't do that were I you. My friend over there,” Kan nodded toward Red-Hair, who smirked in response. “Can slowly kill you in ways you can't even imagine. And when I'm through taking over your father's estate, I'll make sure there's no one left to mourn you.”

Rui was reaching for the daggers strapped to her thigh; even if she couldn't make it out alive she would ensure Kan didn't either, when she was distracted by a dull thump. She watched Red-Hair slump to the ground. Before Kan could turn to look a dagger flashed in the dim light, pressing against his throat.

Jimmu had Kan's arm pinned behind his back, the other clawed at the dagger, but it made no difference. Jimmu’s face was bent close to Kan's, eyes blazing.

“I made a vow never to kill again, but for you I will make an exception, and I know for a fact there is no one alive who will mourn you.” His voice was low and as sharp as the blade in his hand.

He looked away from Kan, meeting Rui's eyes, and his gaze softened. “Please go, Rui; head for home.”

She started to nod, but something caught her eye and a scream froze in her throat. Jimmu spun quickly, flowing smoothly like water, using Kan as a shield to stop the dagger hurtling toward him. Rui turned in time to see Red-Hair’s eyes go wide in shock and stumble forward, glancing down at Jimmu's dagger buried in his chest.

She hadn't even seen him throw it.

Jimmu let Kan's body slide to the floor. He knelt down and plucked the dagger from Kan's chest. He looked up at her.

“Please look away.” Rui did as asked, turning her back on the scene. She heard a faint slicing noise, even footfalls, and another slicing noise. She understood that was the proper thing, make certain both were dead; still, she felt ill. Her eyes were shut tight, hands balled in her lap, when the footfalls came closer.

Jimmu knelt and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

Rui shook her head, opening her eyes. “I'm alright, I understand.”

“I didn't want--”

“I'm alright,” she repeated.

Jimmu helped her stand, and led her outside. They walked slowly through town, no one paying them any attention. They were close to home when she stopped. She felt steadier now, but she could see the sweat beading on Jimmu's forehead, how labored his breathing was.

They leaned against the wall of an inn, side by side, and Rui tore off the end of her sleeve, dabbing at his face. “You overexerted yourself.”

He was staring into the distance, eyes squinting as if he could penetrate the darkness. “You could've died.” His voice quivered.

“It's alright, everything is alright.” She reached for his hand but he jerked it back, pushing away from the wall. He whirled around to face her, eyes blazing.

“You don't understand! That was a trained assassin, and who knows what Kan was capable of? If I had been any later, any weaker! You would have died, Rui.” He was angry now, wildly gesturing. “How could you have been so reckless and stupid?

She bristled at his words. She had plotted and kept Kan busy for days while Jimmu recuperated. She’d been perfectly demure around Kan when all she wanted was to stab him in the eye. She had thought out everything carefully. She was not stupid.

“I was keeping my people safe! Protecting my father; protecting you!” She glowered at him, arms crossed.

“I don't care about anyone else! I care about you!” He stepped closer, jaw clenched. He slammed his fist against the wall, inches from her head, but she didn't flinch; never took her eyes from his face. Jimmu sucked in a deep breath, shoulders slumping as he let it out. “I love you, Rui.”

He had turned his face, as if ashamed, but Rui felt giddy, as if she’d drank the entire bottle of scorpion wine. She placed her hand on Jimmu's cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, unable to fight the grin spreading across her face. “When I realized you’d been poisoned, I kept thinking I couldn't lose you. I--” Jimmu cut her off, pressing his lips against hers.

Rui clung to his shirt as he pushed her against the wall. His hands were hot as they trailed up her body to bury in her hair, tearing at the pins until the locks tumbled down in gentle waves. She slipped her hands under his shirt, needing to feel his skin. With great reluctance, they finally broke apart gasping for air, lips swollen. Jimmu's eyes seemed to darken as he studied her carefully, his thumb tracing her lower lip.

“I should get you home. You need rest,” he said, stepping back. She missed his warmth.

“In the morning we'll talk to my father,” she said. Rui slipped her hand into his, leaning against him. He nodded.

 

\-------------

 

Dawn found Jimmu pacing his room, unable to calm himself for meditation. He was still unwell, weak and easily tired, but it didn’t matter; pacing was the only way to ease his restless mind. It hadn’t been a mistake to kiss Rui -- not when it was the single happiest moment of his life -- but that didn’t mean it was right.

She was a noblewoman, he was an assassin.

It was unsuitable.

Her father would never allow it.

He continued pacing, heavy hearted, his mind a riot of thoughts. It was close to breakfast when a servant fetched him, escorting him to Wu's office.

Wu sat at his desk looking well, all things considered. Jimmu was painfully aware of Rui sitting by the fire, head held high. He could not bring himself to meet her gaze. Jimmu stopped before Wu, hands folded behind his back.

“I understand that you are a hero.”

“I would not go so far; I only did what was needed.”

Wu scoffed. “You saved my daughter's life, and mine from the sound of it. I would say that qualifies as a hero, and my word does hold some authority. Tell me, young man? What would you have? I daresay you're owed a substantial amount.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jimmu finally a stole a glance toward Rui. Her face was glowing, eyes bright. Her hair was done up elaborately, but he could still feel the silken strands sifting through his fingers; could still feel her soft lips on his. “What I would ask for, you would not give lightly because it is worth more than all the jade and rubies in the Golden Kingdom.”

Jimmu bowed his head. “I will take no payment.”

“Not even as originally promised?” Wu quirked a brow, casting a glance toward his daughter. She remained silent.

“Not even that.” Jimmu bowed. “Goodbye, Lord Wu.” Turning he bowed to Rui, “Goodbye, Miss Wu.” He left without another word, starting the slow journey back to his shop.

The room was dark when he opened the front door, he left it alone. Instead he drew the drapes and shuffled to his room. He laid on the bedroll, wishing for the heaviness in his chest to go away.

Jimmu kept himself locked up for days, barely eating, sleeping little, and generally brooding. He’d been home three days when an insistent knocking sounded on the door. At first it was easy to ignore, then it grew so loud he thought the person might actually break it down. He stalked to the front of the shop, unbolted the door and yanked it open.

He wasn't sure what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn't Wu’s messenger. The young man gave him a superfluous bow. When he straightened he unfurled a sealed scroll.

“His Highness, Lord Wu, offers his gratitude for services rendered, and two methods of payment.” He fell silent as servants appeared, wheeling carts full of gold and rubies and jade.

“Lord Wu could not procure all the jade or rubies in the Golden Kingdom, but he believes these carts equal.” Next a carriage rolled down the street, stopping directly in front of the shop.

“The second choice of payment...” Jimmu stopped listening when Rui stepped out of the carriage, a fan hiding her face. She walked toward him, stopping close enough for the scent of jasmine to tickle his nose.

“Is your father really offering your hand as a form of payment?”

She snapped her fan shut and smiled, eyes crinkling. “No. I did that myself, he only sent the carts in hopes you might find them more appealing.”

“He's a fool if he believes I would.” He stepped closer and cupped her cheek, thumb caressing her lips. She pressed a kiss against the pad. He shivered.

“Does that mean you'll marry me?” she asked, eyes teasing.

“Yes,” he whispered before kissing her.


End file.
